


For Reasons Wretched and Divine

by jennajuicebox



Series: Be Still, My Heart [1]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Child Abuse, Discussion of Abortion, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Abortion, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mentions of Cancer, Starvation, TWO IDIOTS, Violence, being stupid and cute
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 23:59:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19095625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennajuicebox/pseuds/jennajuicebox
Summary: “Do you hear that Billy?” Thea whispers. Her voice gentle.“What? The singing?”“It’s the valley song.”





	For Reasons Wretched and Divine

**Author's Note:**

> Hello My friends!
> 
> So this started as an exercise to help out my other fic Cavedweller, one thing lead to another and before I knew it I had a whole new flc planned... so here it is.... A Prequel to Cavedweller no one asked for! I had this idea buzzing around in my head for awhile and I thought why not! But seriously I have been having a blast world building for Cavedweller and I am in love with Thea and Asher almost as much as Everlark. (Which is saying something)
> 
> Please stop in and show my absolutely wonderful beta W00ly some love! if you haven't read RADIO yet you are missing out! She is fantastic and without her I would be a puddle of tears and this fic would still be sitting in my laptop files never to see the light of day.

WInter melts away. Spring bursts into bloom,a bright kaleidoscope of colors. Aquamarine sky , white, fluffy clouds, deep greens and lemon yellow flowers dot the yard.

 

It is Thea Warren’s favorite kind of change. She dresses for it, digging a dazzling yellow dress from the back of her wardrobe. Bright and cheerful as the flowers outside her window. She smooths the silk around her hips, not real silk of course, but the faux silk the seamstress sells by the bolt. She licks her lips and she stares at herself in the mirror. Her lips part as if she is about to ask the girl staring back at her a question. Her eyebrows knit together. She worries the end of her braid between her fingers.

 

She remembers this girl. Elusively, like a dream. Or maybe a dream of a dream.  

 

But she doesn’t know her. Not really.

 

~~..~~

 

She sees him in distance.

 

Her eyes are glued on the shadow that slips from the crowd of children in the street. Thea shrugs her shoulders.

 

“Asher Everdeen.”

 

Masilyee giggles, the sound is thick as syrup around Thea. She loops her arm through Thea’s and pulls her closer. Her honey hair tickles Thea’s cheek.

 

“He’s cute,” she whispers conspiringly. And she isn’t wrong. He is tall and lanky in a newborn colt kind of way, it suggests that he will handsome when he becomes himself. Thea sighs, resting her head on Masilyee’s shoulder.

 

“Don’t say that too loud, my mother will have a heart attack,” Thea says.

 

She watches as Asher Everdeen slip between the wires of the fence and dissolve into the gloom that hangs beneath the trees.

 

“Would that be such a bad thing?” Masilyee says smartly.

 

Thea barely hears the sharp reply. She is trying to see through the pines to the boy in the ragged leather jacket that moves so silently she couldn’t be sure if he was ever there at all.

 

~~..~~

 

Thea should have gone upstairs hours ago. There is so much to be done. She needs to work on a paper for her Coal Productions class and Bram’s socks needed to be mended and Temperance needs a bath... and what of their father? Stuck in his room. Wheezing and alone. Waiting for Thea to come and read to him.

 

Temperance breaks a glass.

 

Thea can hear her mother screaming from the shop, through the door and two flights of stairs. She grips the handle of her broom until her knuckles are white. Glass shatters and Temperance starts to wail. Something snaps inside of Thea’s chest. She tries to blink away the tears but it is hopeless.

 

A noise breaks out of her. A strangled sob. She cries for her brother Abraham who is so angry even though he is only ten. She cries for Temperance who is only five and flinches back at the slightest movement. And then she cries for herself. The coward who can’t climb the stairs.

 

~~..~~

 

It’s a scorcher. Masilyee is fast asleep next to Thea, her legs curled under her and her head resting in Thea’s lap as she sips lemonade and reads her ancient, leatherbound copy of fairy tales for the thousandth time. She runs her fingers through Masilyee’s hair absentmindedly, so engrossed in her story she doesn’t notice Asher slip past her- to the bakery door- and tap smartly three times. She only looks up when Bartlett’s voice echoes out across the yard.

 

The Bakery’s only son stands on the threshold, listening raptly to whatever Asher Everdeen has to say. Bartlett Mellark leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, blonde hair falling in his face. She tries to smile at him. She tries to focus back on the page but she reads the same sentence three times before giving up and setting it aside. She leans back against the rough bark of the tree and shuts her eyes, watching the shadows of the leaves above her dance through her eyelids.

 

Masilyee hums sleepily.

 

It’s the heat. It makes the world slow and sluggish.

 

“Whatcha reading?”

 

She cracks an eye open to see Asher Everdeen standing over her, shoving a loaf of wheat bread in the bag at his hip. She shoots up, her hands instinctively running through one of her braids.

 

“Excuse me?” She growls. Her cheeks burn and she hopes he thinks it is the heat of the afternoon.

 

“I asked you what you were reading.” He juts his chin toward the book laying discarded in the grass next to her bare foot. She curls her toes in the grass and reaches for the worn spine of the book.

 

“Its an old fairy tale book I found in with my Dad’s stuff.” She mumbles to her knees. She feels more than sees his smile. “I could lend it to you.” She blurts before she can think better of it.

 

“What would your mother say?”

 

It always comes back to her, doesn’t it? Thea frowns as her eyes slide up to Ashers face. He looks so serious standing over her.

 

How does he know?

 

“Does it matter what she says?” Thea whispers.

 

Asher looks at her like he is trying to make up his mind about her.

 

“Tell your Pa I got the feverfew he wanted.” Asher hikes his bag up and shifts his weight from foot to foot.

 

“I will.” She says.

 

She watches him stride down the alley and disappear around the corner of a building and out of sight.

 

“Who was that?” Masilyee says groggily.

 

“Nobody, Billy. Go back to sleep.”  Thea says, pulling a stray clump of hair from Masilyee’s face and tucking it behind her ear.

 

~~..~~

 

Her mother screams Brams name. It sends Thea running for her brother in a blind panic. She finds him in the middle of the room, frozen as Lilah Warren screams at him. Red-faced and wild eyed, Lilah grabs Bram by the arm and hefts him upward. It isn’t the first time Lilah has yanked him up like that. In fact all of them have suffered this injury. Once, she had yanked Thea up so hard she was in a sling for weeks after. Thea can still feel her the delicate tendons in her shoulder strain and then snap. Bram makes a small, sharp noise and stumbles backward.

 

Thea touches his tear soaked cheek and he shrugs her off, angrily swiping at his tears. Thea isn’t sure what Bram did- if he broke a plate or a lamp- spilled Tempy’s new paint set - it didn’t matter really. Their mother was always looking for a reason.

 

Thea lurches forward before she can think to long on it and yanks Bram behind her- she glares at her mother with open defiance.

 

The last thing she sees is pale pink lacquer on her mother's nails as they fly toward her.

 

She comes to with a forceful inhale of breath.

 

It takes her two tries but she rolls over and stares up at the shadows on the ceiling. Time has passed- and by the slant of the dark from the windows it must have been at least an hour.

 

Thea doesn’t bother moving. She just stares. She wants nothing. Is nothing.

 

This isn’t the first time she has woken up alone on the floor.

 

It certainly won’t be the last.

 

~~..~~

 

Thea sits down under the apple tree. Her back pressed against the rough bark. There is barely enough light to make out the words on the page. Still, she is desperate for even a little bit of reprieve from her mother's needling. She opens the book and rests it against her bent knees. She has only just finished the first page when she feels his eyes on her.

 

“What are you reading?” She sighs at the intrusion but holds up the cover for him read.

 

“Leaves of Grass.” He whispers.

 

“Is it good?”

 

“I wouldn’t know.” She says, a little testily.

 

“Sorry.”

 

She sighs. Instantly regretting her tone.

 

“It’s alright, Bart.”

 

“I don’t get it.” He says simply.

 

“What?”

 

“You.” He whispers, not unkindly. It is a statement. Simple and truthful. “You always got your nose in a book. Isn’t your own life good enough?”

 

He turns and starts to stalk off only to stop a few feet away and whirls around. He just stands there for a moment as if he is trying to decide something.

 

Thea digs her fingers into the warm, dry dirt under her and squirms a little, sometimes Bartlett got this look in his eye, like he was looking right through her to the marrow of her bones.

 

“What?” She feels raw under his gaze.

 

“Nothing,” He says, shifting his weight and shoving his hands into his pockets. The metal buckle on his suspenders glints in the late evening sun. “Nothing, Thea, just-”

 

“Well, spit it out.” She says sourly. She isn’t sure why she feels the need to snap at him. Something has colored his eyes dark and she doesn’t like it. It’s far too serious for the boy she knows.

 

“It’s just- Asher-”

 

Thea curdles at the sound of his name.

 

“Bart-”

 

“People are talking Thea.”

 

“What else is new?” She tries to keep her tone even. She tries to sound uncaring and cold but she has never been a very good actress.

 

“If I have heard your Mama will hear-”

 

Her heart sinks. He is right. Her mother is a hound when it came to gossip. As one of the richest people in twelve she was invited to every social gathering, she knew everything about everyone in this little district. No rumor got by her.

 

“There is nothing to hear, Bart.” She tries to smile. “But thank you, for your concern.” Thea isn’t lying. She barely knows Asher. Why does panic flood her mouth like saliva?

 

Bartlett looks up at the evening sky. He looks so golden in the fading light. His hand comes up and runs through his pale curls. His other hand hangs loose at his side. There is flour beneath his fingernails.

 

“I should be getting inside.” She mumbles to the blades of grass.

 

He pulls her up and watches carefully as she gathers her blanket and book. She whispers a soft goodnight and for a moment she thinks he is going to say something else but then he shakes his head and turns for the bakery.

 

She walks back home alone.

 

~~..~~

  


Bartlett collects a handful of wildflowers from the backyard. He presents them with a soft smile. She tries hard to look pleased as she sets them into her lap. She knows what they mean. She might be sheltered but she isn’t stupid.

 

They sit together on the porch steps. His hand grasps hers.

 

“My Grandma wants to talk to your mother.” He says.

 

She knew this was going to happen. Merchants marry merchants. Families form alliances to assure the businesses survival. The elders pick proper mates for their children. She looks hard at Bartlett. His pale skin is toasted pink from too much sun. His arms are well toned and strong. His hair is sun streaked and honeyed and too long. He really should go to the barber.

 

She purses her lips as his pale eyes narrow at her.

 

“Alright.” She whispers.

 

~~..~~

 

“Daddy?”

 

Cancer has a smell to it. Like sour milk and soggy diapers and cat piss put together. Thea can nearly taste the smell of his bed sores and has to bite her tongue to keep her breakfast down. Thea swallows and tiptoes toward the bed. He is in the same position she left him in. His legs are curled up toward his body under his thin blankets. His skin is chalky and dry, his eyes, the color of faded denim, stare sightlessly at the wall.

 

She picks at a thread in the binding of her book.

 

“Where did we leave off?” Thea tucks her legs up underneath her and buries her face in the book but before she can start reading her father rolls his head so he is looking straight at her. Though she can’t be sure if he sees her at all.

 

“Althea?”

 

“I’m here Daddy.”

 

A bony hand reaches for her. She watches mutely as he grabs the book and pulls it out of her grasp.

 

“I have no need of kitchen girls in glass slippers.” His voice is rough. She can hear the rattle of phlegm in his chest.  

 

Thea sucks in a desperate breath.

 

“What do you need?” She asks, already prepared to grab the pitcher of water behind her.

 

“Humor an old man.” He whispers. His hand envelopes hers. “Let’s just sit and be quiet awhile.”

 

She tucks her trembling lip between her teeth so he can’t see. She sits and listens to his ragged breathing. The cancer eating is lungs doesn’t discriminate, it takes merchant and miner alike. Thea sets her head down on the bed next to him and tries to ignore the heaviness filling her with every new breath.

  


~~..~~

 

He comes round the back door like a stray cat. His boots covered in dust and his lips cracking in the summer heat. He sets the herbs into her waiting hands wordlessly, letting her tally up what he found. She makes the mistake of looking up at Asher once and blushes furiously as his eyes fly to the ground.

 

“Those are illegal, you know.”

 

“What? The herbs?”

 

He laughs.

 

“No, books.”

 

Her eyes shoot up to his face.

 

“First offense will get you whipped.”

 

She opens her mouth only to snap it shut again. She is unsure what he is trying to say to her exactly. Does he mean to inform on her? She is about to jerk her hands back- slam the door in his face- when his hand reaches out boldly and lands on her elbow.

 

“Be careful where you read.” He insists urgently. “The head peacekeeper doesn’t take kindly to the rules being blatantly broken right in front of him.”

 

“He must hate you then.” she snorts. Her cheeks flush as she realizes what she has just stated. Her hands inch back slowly.

 

He ducks down and Thea ignores the way her heart crashes against her ribs. “Only on Sundays.” His breath fans the shell of her ear and she stumbles back, bewildered.

 

A bundle of mint drops from her hand to the ground between them and he stoops, swooping it up and placing it gently in her hands. She reluctantly steps back, setting the clumps of green next to the sink and fetching her satchel of coins.

 

She drops a few coins in his hand and he thanks her in an oddly subdued voice.

 

“Is there anything else?” She asks.

 

He studies her face.

 

“No, I suppose not.”

 

She watches him slip down the stairs, her body pressed against the door jam. She is about to shut the door when he whirls suddenly.

 

“History is fiction.” He says. His voice is crisp and bright. She smiles as he takes a stumbling step backwards- not breaking eye contact.

 

“Robespierre.” She whispers.

 

He tilts his cap in her direction, and leaves her breathless - helpless- as he dissolves into the scenery.

 

~~..~~

 

Reaping day dawns bright and hot. Masilyee stands next to her in a pale pink dress. Her blonde hair is curled to perfection. Abby’s hand grips Masilyee’s hard. On the other side Masilyee has Althea’s hand.

 

“It won’t be us.” Masilyee says confidently. The pin clipped to the front of her dress gleams in the sun.

 

“That thing is garish.” Thea says, fingering the hot metal gingerly. Masilyee rolls her eyes.

 

“It’s for good luck.”

 

From across the way she can see Bartlett standing alone in a sea of boys. He catches her eye, smiling softly with something approaching encouragement. She forces her smile back at him.

 

Masilyee squeezes her hand.

 

“He fancies you.” She whispers in Thea’s ear.

 

“I know.” Thea says, the half-hearted smile on her face dissolving slowly.

 

The girl is named. Some little waif of a thing from the seam. She sobs through the whole reaping. The Capitol woman reading the cards pulls the boys name from the crystal bowl. Althea holds her breath as the paper is unfolded.

 

“Charles Hadley.” The woman trills.

 

Althea lets out a breath.

 

Another year safe.

 

She sees Asher Everdeen from afar. He looks somber as he is swallowed by the crowd.

 

~~..~~

 

Thea has always been jealous of the room Masilyee and Abby share. Its cluttered, the blankets a mess and penny novels are piled on the bedside table. There are pink checkered curtains that sway in the breeze and Taffy, Masilyee’s little yellow songbird trills in her cage. It isn’t like Thea’s room, barren with just a quilt thrown over the bed and a wardrobe in the corner.

 

Masilyee throws herself across her bed. She has a cheap Capitol approved penny novel in her hands and she blathers on about someone from the television but Thea isn’t listening to her- she is listening to the rustle of the mockingjays in the tree outside the window. They chirp and trill and suddenly- fall silent.

 

Then she is listening to a voice as it wafts up from below. She stumbles over herself to hang her head out the window, craning her neck to try and see whoever is singing.

 

“What in the odds has gotten into you?” Masilyee grumbles.

 

“Do you hear that Billy?” Thea whispers. Her voice gentle.

 

“What? The singing?”

 

“It’s the valley song.”

 

~~..~~

 

Masilyee is surprisingly strong.

 

She drags Thea down to the sidewalk and they walk arm in arm. Masilyee stops short when she sees Asher Everdeen singing his heart out on the street corner closest to the grocer. People stop and drop coins in his worn out hat but he seems not to notice, he is too busy whittling a piece of wood with a unassuming knife- one that is not nearly as scary as the one he keeps in his belt when he slips out of the district.

 

Not that she has noticed.

 

He doesn’t see them standing there at first, not until Masilyee loudly clears her throat and his eyes dart up and land on Thea.

 

He keeps singing but nods in her direction and winks- winks at her! Thea buries her face in Masilyee’s hair as a giggle erupts from her chest.

 

She drops a coin in his hat and he holds his hand to his heart.

 

She flinches back instinctively.

 

His eyes narrow.

 

And just like that, she knows he knows.

 

~~..~~

 

She has no sooner stepped through the door than her mother has her by the hair. A white hot pain shoots down Thea’s spine as her mother half drags, half pulls her up the stairs and through the door of her room. She tosses Thea against the wall of her room and as colors bloom behind her eyes as sharp and as real as fireworks.

 

“You will not make a fool of me girl.”

 

“Mama?”

 

“You thought I wouldn’t hear?”

 

“No, Mama-”

 

“Althea Rose Warren, you will not back sass me, not today, not when my friends come round here telling me my girl is off galavanting through town making moon eyes at some seam boy.”

 

“He keeps us in herbs-”

 

“He is nothing?” Lilah snarls. “Do you hear me child?”

 

Thea doesn’t dare answer her.

 

“The good lord has seen fit to make you the eldest daughter of one of the richest families in twelve! And you dare spit in his face by keeping company with trash.” Lilah sweeps her leg and her foot connects with Thea’s stomach. Hard. Thea rolls, her cheekbone hits the floorboard. She is helpless to do anything but cough and wheeze and wait for her breath to come back to her.

 

“Oh, my sweet girl.” Lilah kneels, her dress pooling on the floor in front of Thea. Lilah’s fingers are cool against her scalp. “You think I do this to be cruel.”

 

Thea rolls away from her. Stares at the wall.

 

“No, Mama.” The words taste like bile.

 

“I do this because I want what is best for you.”

 

“I know, Mama.”

 

“Oh, my daughter.” Lilah sounds almost sad. It is so unlike her. Thea drags her fingernails across the floorboard. “We do not have the luxury of wasting time with the passing fancy of youth. You will marry someone of standing. My daughter will have nothing less. Do you understand me?”

 

Thea stares at a knot in the wood of her wall.

 

“Yes, Mama.” She tries to keep her voice placid.

 

“Good girl,” Lilah whisper, reaching her hand out and running her fingers over Thea’s tangled braid. “You’re my good girl.” She sounds almost fond of Thea.

 

Thea shuts her eyes and pretends to be asleep until she hears the clink of the door behind Thea and the shuffle of her house shoes against the floorboards.

 

~~..~~

 

“What happened to your face?” His voice is like antiseptic on a wound. She recoils and he doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t try to touch her and she is so very glad. He hands over the usual herbs, says the usual things. She drops the cool coins into his waiting palm.

 

She is about to slam the door in his face when he lurches forward suddenly and grabs ahold of her hand. He squeezes gently. It takes everything in her not to startle backward and slam the door in his face.

 

“Tis better to bear the ills we have than others we know not of-” He whispers quickly.

 

“William Shake- How do you? When-” She sways, part exhaustion, part disbelief. “Do you really believe that?”

 

He furrows his brows and scratches at his jaw. She can hear the scrape of the stubble under his fingertips. His eyes pierce hers. They are gray- or the illusion of gray- they are almost clear- almost blue- almost gold. Just when she thinks she has a bearing on the color he moves and the color shifts and she is sure she was wrong. It’s infuriating- it’s maddening. He smiles. It’s soft and crooked and there is a sliver of a white scar just above his lip that only shows itself then.

 

“No.” He says.

 

“Take care of yourself,” he says.

 

She shuts the door quietly.

 

Turns and presses her lips together to stop her sudden urge to smile.

 

~~..~~

 

Thea listens to her father hacking in the bathroom from her hiding place in her closet. She rests her book against her knees. Her fingers trace the words on the decaying pages. She doesn’t need to look at the book. She knows the stories by heart. Kings fight dragons and kitchen girls spin in glittering gowns and princesses escape their dungeons.

 

If only life was a fairytale.

 

Thea knows the truth. There is no kind hunter. No fairy mother. There is only the wolf, waiting in the darkness with dripping teeth.

 

The world is cruel and brutal.

 

And it always wins.

 

~~..~~

 

Sometime in the night Temperance crawls in bed with her. Their mother is arguing with their father. The racket can be heard for miles. It isn’t long before Bram is standing in the doorway. Thea sits up and tries to smile at him. She pats the bed and he climbs up. She whispers words blindly with a sibling tucked under each arm. She tells them a story of a boy - both gentle and strange- that walks in the woods- collecting plants and talking to animals.

 

“Doesn’t he hafta eat the animals?” Bram asks.

 

“Yes, but-”

 

Tempy sighs sleepily and rolls over.

 

“Yes but he also shows mercy. He never takes more than he needs. And- and- they trust him.”

 

“Is he real?” Bram asks.

 

“I don’t know.” Thea answers honestly.

 

~~..~~

 

Lilah has the eye for herbs. She can mix poulices and brew teas till the cows come home but there is only one Warren with hands strong and capable and perfect for delivering babies and that is Thea.

 

Fran Cartwright is the daughter of the cobbler. A girl Thea has never thought much of. Freckle faced and dull as a table vase. That is why it is such a shock when one summer evening Lilah sends Thea on a errand to the shoe shop and she is swept upstairs and into a tiny, airless room where Fran waits with her hands on her thighs. She looks dizzy and sick.

 

“You're the midwife?” Fran snorts.

 

“You’re pregnant?” Thea whispers. “Well, who-”

 

She is cut off by Fran’s sharp glare. Thea shifts her weight from foot to foot and drops her bag on the floor.

 

“How long?”

 

“I don’t know.” Fran shrugs. “Four weeks, maybe.”

 

“Okay. Well-”

 

“I don’t want it.” Fran blurts.

 

Thea’s heart sinks into her stomach like a stone in water. There were many things that were illegal in Panem. This was the most abhorrent crime in the eyes of the Capitol. You were not allowed to take the fodder from the cannon. They needed their tributes.

 

“I can’t-” Thea hedges.

 

“That is bullshit and we both know it, Thea.” Fran snaps. “Just give me something.”

 

“We could both die for you even suggesting it, Frances Cartwright!”

 

Fran pulls her legs up to her chest. Thea steps forward carefully and drops herself next to Fran, being careful not to touch her directly. “I’ll die if I don’t, Thea.”

 

Thea looks at Fran a long time. Her puffy face, blonde curls matted around her face and she puts herself in Fran’s position. What if it was her sitting alone on this bed?

 

Thea sighs.

 

“I’ll try, but I am not making any promises.”

 

Fran gives her a lifeless smile.

 

“Thanks, Thea.”

 

~~..~~

 

It is Saturday.

 

The one day a week when her Mother packs up a plate of sandwiches and has tea with the grocer’s wife.

 

The one day a week Thea takes Bram and Tempy outside and lets them run around in the sunshine. Today is no exception. Thea settles in on the porch with a glass of iced tea while Bram and Temperance chase each other in the grass. She flips open a book and tucks her legs up underneath her like a cat.

 

“Hey-”

 

Her heart seizes at the sound of his voice and she doesn’t understand it so she swallows and fixes a bland smile on her face.

 

“Hi Asher.”

 

He shifts his weight nervously, ripping his cap off his head so he can run his fingers through his hair.

 

“It sure is a nice day out.”

 

“I guess.” Thea shrugs. Fran is still with her, hollowing her heart and making her stomach flutter nervously. It has been a week and she hasn’t found a solution. There are any number of herbs that can be used but they are the kind kept under key. Thea would have to ask Lilah- and that isn’t an option.

 

“I got the yellow root your Pa asked for,” He says, pulling out a bundle of herbs. “I grabbed some milk thistle too.”

 

“Alright.” She mumbles, setting aside her book and grabbing her coin. When she steps back out in the heat Asher has barely noticed her. He is shading his eyes, watching the kids play.

 

“They your siblings?” He asks.

 

She nods as she drops the coins into his hand.

 

“Yep, Bram is ten and Tempy is five.”

 

“She has two different colored eyes.”

 

“Yep, midwife told Daddy to leave her out for it.”

 

“What?”

 

“Yeah, says only the devil would do such a thing to a child of God. Daddy kicked her out right then and there.” Thea can’t stop the smile that spreads across her face. “Serves the superstitious old witch right.”

 

“I’ve never been much for the brimstone you merchants throw around.”

 

She feels like she should feel offended but she doesn’t. Maybe it is the cadence of his voice- maybe it is the way that he never seems to sound mean, only matter of fact. She hums her agreement and stands there feeling dizzy. She tells herself it is the heat entirely and not the way Asher Everdeen smells, like sweat and mint and smoke. The way his skin might feel under hand- soft and cool, like the silk of her dress.

 

“Hello,” He says, and it takes her a moment to realize that Tempy has come up and latched onto her dress. Thea runs her fingers through Tempy’s hair, bleached nearly white from the sun.

 

“She doesn’t talk much-” Thea explains.

 

“Hello.” Tempy says back plainly.

 

Thea watches dumbly as Asher crouches down to Tempy’s level. Tempy hides her face in Thea’s skirt but smiles shyly.

 

“I like your eyes.” Asher says. The words bleed Thea. Temperance has gotten nothing but grief from her eyes. Superstitious old women like Rosemary Mellark that narrow their eyes at the girl. Certain that at best, Temperance Ivy Warren is a bad luck charm at worse? A witch.

 

Tempy blushes and shoves her finger in her mouth.

 

“Do you like school?”

 

“Yes, I like art-”

 

Thea feels jealousy slither down her spine and settle in her stomach. She can barely get Temperance to speak a few words in a week and here Asher waltzes in and has her speaking full sentences.

 

“Want to see something neat?” Asher asks, opening his satchel. Thea doesn’t let on she is just as curious as Tempy about that bag he always has attached to his hip. She isn’t sure what she expects him to pull out but it sure isn’t a small, reddish brown fox kit.

 

Temperance's eyes light up. She watches with wonder as Asher sets the fox in front of her. It stumbles forward and yips. The rest of the world is lost to Tempy as she picks up the small, bandaged creature and clutches it to her chest.

 

“Tempy, be gentle.” Thea warns as the girl bounds off to show Bram.

 

“She likes you.” Thea says softly. “Not many people are nice to her.”

 

An silence settles around them. Thea can hear her ragged breathing, the bugs buzzing in the heat, the chickens clucking in the coop. Asher is here too, normally evasive and quiet, she swears she can hear the frantic crash of his heart against his ribs. Is he as nervous as her?

 

The shadow boy that slips passed the fence, that eludes the peacekeepers day after day. The gentle one that is kind to a little girl everyone else thinks should have died. Could she trust him? Something squeezes her heart savagely.

 

They come from the same district but he might as well come from the Capitol with how untouchable he is.

 

Yet, touch him she does.

 

Her hand reaches out and brushes his arm. He is as soft as she thought he would be.

 

The words stumble from her mouth before she has a chance to police them.

 

“I need your help.”

 

Her eyes drop to the dusty ground below them. His hand lands on her shoulder.

 

“What do you need?”

 

She needs more than he could ever offer her.

 

Her eyes slowly slide up. She takes in his mud caked boots, patched pants and worn leather jacket. His dark hair falling into his eyes. The way his eyes change color in the sun. Once she thought them a common gray but now in the summer sun she sees they are almost blue.

 

“Thea?”

 

“I need Sabina.” She blurts.

 

She hears his sharp inhale as he processes what she has said.  

 

“Althea, Sabina is dangerous.” His voice is a rattle.

 

“I know.” She snarls, feeling so open under his stare.

 

“Not to mention painful- and- and-” He is bright red as she steps back into the shade of the awning, embarrassed and exposed. “Thea, are you sure?”

 

He thinks it is for her.

 

She should open her mouth, correct him and tell him its for Fran. For whatever reason she doesn't, she tilts her chin upward, daring him to say anything.

 

“I’m sure.” She says.

 

He swallows and nods once. It feels so final. He snatches up his bag and she thinks he is going to leave. That Fran’s last hope will leave with him. He stops a few steps away and turns back, yanking his hat off his head.

 

“I’ll see if I can find some, I ain’t promising anything though.”

 

She isn’t sure what she did to deserve that small grain of kindness. The smile that flashes across her face is genuine and warm.

 

“Thank you, Asher.”

 

“Just-”

 

“What?”

 

The world goes on around them, dogs bark and children laugh and a whistle blows in the distance, the end of the morning mining shift. Asher is silent as death itself.

 

“Nevermind.” He shakes his head and starts his long walk back to the seam. “May the odds be.” He says with a backwards wave.

 

~~..~~

 

Days go by.

 

Summer digs her heels in. Thea is ready for the cool breeze of fall, tired of the way her dress clings to the small of her back. Tired of the unrelenting, unbearable heat. There is no end in sight. She sluggishly drags her feet toward home. The heat always made Lilah cranky and put her on edge. The slightest thing would send her into a rage. The children had been on pins and needles for weeks, and with their father sick again it left Thea to look after the children still too young to understand that the key to survival is being unseen and unheard.

 

The second Thea steps into the shop she knows something is wrong.

 

A silence has flooded every crevice. It hangs heavy in the air. Thea drops her bag down in the doorway as dread shoots up her spine in a shock.

 

“Tempy?” It is reflex to call out her little sisters name, not just because she is the youngest, the most vulnerable, but because for whatever reason, Lilah hated Tempy most of all.

 

Nothing answers her but the incessant ticking of the clock on the wall.

 

Thea bolts up the stairs and bursts through the door into the kitchen. All is quiet here too. The only thing amiss is the overturned bowl on the floor, the gooey egg yolks that clotted beneath it. The sight of it stops Thea cold in her tracks.

 

“Tempy?” She squeaks, slipping through the living room down the hall and into the room Bram and Tempy share.

 

Her sister stares blankly at the wall. Her eyes swollen with tears. Her hair is matted down her back.

 

“Tempy baby?”

 

All it takes is the sound of Thea’s voice and Tempy is sobbing.

 

“Baby, where does it hurt?” Her sister is sobbing so hard she starts to cough. Thea scoops her up and presses her to her chest. She isn’t sure where her mother is but Thea doesn’t want to risk the ire of her waking so she whisks them into her closet. With her sister in one arm she yanks down dresses and jackets until the floor is covered in a puddle of cloth. Then she nestles down into the fabric. Here in the safety of her nest she lets her sister sob. She lets herself soothe the little girl, wiping the tears from her pink cheeks and brushing her hair back away from her face. She coos sweet words into the little girls ear and hopes they sink in.

 

She hopes that this small comfort is enough.

 

~~..~~

 

“Asher Everdeen is looking at you.” Masilyee whispers in her ear. “Why is Asher Everdeen looking at you?”

 

“Well, don’t look!” Thea snarls.

 

“You sure are snappy today.” Masilyee giggles.

 

“I’m not snappy.” Thea snaps. “I asked him for a favor.” Thea says blandly.

 

“Oh, it was a good favor I hope.” Masilyee teases. Glancing over her shoulder with a bright smile. “He’s good looking.”

 

Thea rolls her eyes.

 

“Billy!”

 

“What, he is!”

 

“You know I can’t do things like that. Can you imagine if people suddenly saw me out with Asher? My mother would lose her mind!”

 

“Hasn’t she already?” Masilyee snorts. “The evil old witch is going to hit you regardless, might as well have some fun.”

 

“I wish it were that easy, Billy. I got Bram and Tempy to look after. Tempy barely talks as it is and it takes everything I have to keep Bram from lighting the curtains on fire.”

 

“My mother heard that Lilah is in talks with Rosemary Mellark.” Masilyee says. “That they are discussing you and Bartlett marrying.”

 

It isn’t news to Thea. Something inside of her always knew Bartlett would be the man her mother would choose. The bakery does well. The Mellarks are a good family with strong sons. Bartlett is just as kind and gentle as they come. Just as gentle as-

 

Bartlett is a good man.

 

Why can’t she love him?

 

~~..~~

 

The rumor is confirmed just three days later.

 

Thea comes home from school and Rosemary Mellark is in the living room. Her skin pulled tight across her cheekbones. It reminds Thea of a moth’s wing, delicate and ashy. Lilah takes her by the arm and leads her across the room to the couch and sets her down next to Bartlett. He looks like she feels- green around the gills. He offers her a small, tight lipped smile.

 

Rosemary and Lilah talk in hushed whispers that melt into a hum around her. She can’t make sense of any of it.

 

Least of all the futile sinking of her heart.

 

She can see it all around her. The life she is meant to have. As far as lives go in twelve it isn’t a bad one. She will take over the apothecary. She’ll live a comfortable life with the boy next door. She’ll have blonde children that are as safe from the reaping as they come.

 

She’ll grow gray with Bartlett by her side.

 

And die without ever filling this hollowness inside of her.

 

~~..~~

 

The next morning Bartlett is waiting under the boughs of the old apple tree. They walk hand in hand to school. She waits for the shocked gasps that usually follow the newly engaged. They don’t come. By the time she gets to school, everyone already knows.

 

She looks over to his seat. She isn’t sure what she will find. If the shadow boy even cares that she was just turned over to the bakery like a broodmare. Why should he? She isn’t anything to him. They are practically strangers. Why does her heart clench so tightly in her chest it is painful to take a breath?

 

She waits for the narrow of his eyes in judgment- pity or even sympathy.

 

She is met by an empty desk.

 

~~..~~

 

The night is eerily calm. Lilah chats pleasantly with the cook and leaves Thea alone to clean up. Thea washes the dishes and mops the floor in silence. It takes everything she has but she musters enough energy to drag the bucket of feed across the yard to feed the chickens.

 

The night is balmy, almost soupy. Thea can't think of anything she wants more than a tepid shower and her bed.

 

“Hey.““

 

She nearly jumps out of her skin as he leaps out of the apple tree. She would think she would be used to the way Asher materializes out of thin air by now.

 

“Hey,” she squeaks as he grabs the bucket from her. She wraps her sweater around herself tighter. “What are you doing here?”

 

“I found it.” She must look at him dumbly because he clarifies. “The sabina.”

 

Fran’s puffy face swims in her view.

 

“Thank you.” She clears her throat, shaking herself from her reverie. “How much do I owe you?”

 

He looks at her. It’s sad and she doesn’t understand it.

 

“No charge.”

 

“That’s nonsense, Asher-”

 

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out some clippings. His hands are warm as he presses them into her palms.

 

“Please, be careful.”

 

“I'm the Apothecary's daughter, Asher.” She laughs at his concern.

 

“Your mother doesn't know.” He says matter of factly. Her shoulders sag at his tone. “Things can go wrong.”

 

She opens her mouth to say something, anything, to alleviate the suffocating silence that is creeping up on them. The bucket of feed drops at her feet.

 

He leans forward and cups her chin in his hands. His head ducks down and he presses his warm, dry lips to her cheek. Something bursts inside of her. Something hot and bright as a sun.

 

“Stay safe, Thea.” He whispers. His hand squeezes her arm gently.

 

Then he is gone. Melting into the darkness like a ghost.

 

Thea flattens her finger tips against her cheek. Her heart kicking frantically in her chest.

 

“Heaven help me.” She whispers, knowing full well no one can hear her.

 

~~..~~

 

The district has been bled dry by the heat of August sun. The grass is dead and the trees barren. Even the breeze feels acrid and dusty. Thea drags a basket of freshly washed linen and lets Temperance and Bram chase the chickens around. Sweat drips as she hangs each perfectly white sheet and pins them in place. It is absorbing work and she easily tunes out the entire district around her, instead focusing on how the sheets smell. Sweet - like lilac and lemongrass. How everything feels just slightly cooler as they snap in the breeze around her.

She decides that she will read a book of poetry after dinner. No matter how many times she pours over the words it sends shards of something bright and happy down her spine and leaves her smiling for hours afterward.

 

“You look beautiful when you smile.” His voice digs inside of her. Her stomach twists. As her eyes dart around.

 

If he is seen-

 

But it is Saturday. Her father is napping and her mother is long gone to the grocers. Her face goes hot and she knows she must be berry red.

 

“Sorry, was that too forward?”

 

Yes.

 

All of it is too much. The way he leans against the tree. The way he pushes back his porkpie hat with his thumb. The way his teeth overlap just slightly. All of it sets her on edge- sends something like butterfly wings swarming inside of her.

 

“Not at all.” She tries to smile at him. She fears it looks more like a grimace.

 

“I, uh-” He licks his lips and yanks his hat off his head. His eyes rove the dirt around him. “I saw something and thought of you.”

 

Curiosity gets the best of her and she steps around a sheet to see him better.

 

“What is it?”

 

“Close your eyes?”

 

“Why?” Her hands are on her hips.

 

“Because I asked you to.”

 

“No.”

 

He sighs, it’s a long suffering sound and she can’t help the smile that spreads across her face.

 

“Please?” He hangs his head down to look at her, jutting out his bottom lip playfully. She makes a big show of huffing but her eyes slide shut.

 

She feels him all around her. She can hear his soft breath. Smell the woodsmoke and mint on his skin.

 

“No peeking.”

 

His arms come around her and she feels his chest hit her shoulder as he grabs hold of her hand and drops something into her palm. He is gone before she can fully register exactly how close he was to her. Still, her skin hums where his hand had briefly touched hers.

 

“You can open your eyes.”

 

She blinks in surprise. Sitting in her palm is a small paper bird. It is made out of the paper most kids from the seam bring to school, rough and plain with slivers of wood still stuck in it, still the thing feels so delicate Thea can’t bring herself to touch it.

 

She looks up at him. His eyes locked with hers and he looks how she feels. Like he is hanging from a great height, completely helpless to do anything but fall.

 

“In case you need to fly away.” He pulls on the tail of the little paper bird and the wings flap disjointedly. Thea can hardly contain her soft giggle as he steps back and smiles.

 

“He’s perfect.” She whispers.

 

“It’s just paper.” He shrugs, grinding the toe of his boot into the dirt. His hand comes up. Thea stares at his fingers, long and slender, as they reach up carefully and touch the seam of her lower lip.

 

It is like he has her by a string. One moment she is standing there stock still and saucer eyed as his thumb brushes her lower lip. The next she is pressing her lips firmly against his as the wind kicks up. The sweet smelling sheets billowing up around them. Obscuring them from view.

 

~~..~~

  
  
  
  


The days inch by.

 

The tin in her pocket is hits her leg with every step and sends a thrill through Thea. This is the first time that she can remember breaking a law. She was the one that other merchants held their daughters too. The example to the rest of them of what a daughter should be.

 

This is a line she never thought she would cross. If the peacekeepers found out-

 

If her mother knew?

 

There is a sliver of light spilling from under Fran’s door. The girl sleeps with her back to the door. A luxury. Thea slips forward on silent feet and perches herself on the edge of the bed. Outside of the window is a vibrant sunset. The hills beyond the district are a smoky mauve. She wonders idly if Asher is out there now. If he sometimes looks back at the district and thinks about disappearing into the vast wilderness around them. Thea thinks she would. Given the opportunity she would leave this place and never look back.

 

She pulls a small tin out of her pocket. Inside sits either Fran’s salvation or her violent end. Maybe that is all fate is. The flip of a coin.

 

Thea runs her hands over the bed spread methodically, over and over again. Finally when the shadows start to slant she stands and looks over Fran. Her face slack in sleep she doesn’t look more than thirteen.

 

“The path to paradise begins in hell.” Thea whispers.

 

Not that it matters in the end. No one hears her.


End file.
